Dicing
by everworld2662
Summary: “What are we going to do, Mat? Continue dicing till we run out of things to say?” Nonchalance is the best attitude to adopt when making a confession. [MatxRand] [Slash]


Dicing

**Title: Dicing  
****Author: Your's Truly, Ever1  
****Set: After _Crossroads of Twilight_.  
****Pairing: Mat/Rand  
****Genre: Angst/Romance  
****Length: One-off.  
****Summary: "What are we going to do, Mat? Continue dicing till we run out of things to say?" Nonchalance is the best attitude to adopt when making a confession.  
****Warnings: Slash.  
****Rating: PG-13.**

**A/N: Another "don't like/don't read" policy fic. I tried very hard to keep this in character. I'm vague about the setting though – that's not the point. It doesn't matter _where _they are or, really _when _this is happening (so long as it is one of the "later" books, when Rand has developed a rather thick outer shell). Anyway, R & R if you like, go away if you don't. And if you like, you deserve much love. **

"Mat."

Complete, utter, unblinking silence. Mat shrugged, pulling at the sleeves of his coat, looking and feeling awkward. Rand was too, but he knew better than to show it.

"How are you? It's good to see you again."

Mat shrugged again, and Rand felt slight irritation rising in his chest. This wasn't the greeting he'd expected, but he hadn't really known what to expect either.

"Sit down," he said finally, and Mat did, stiffly, still not meeting his eyes.

"Don't do this."

"I'm sorry?" He didn't sound it.

Rand sighed, exasperated. "Mat, I'm sick of having to pretend all the time. So please, stop it. It's me. It really is me. I've changed, but…" He shook his head, wryly. "At least I'm not frightened of hurting you, not like I am with…" He had not meant to say that, but it made him think of something else. "I hear you're married."

Mat nodded, and then suddenly, froze, and sighed, tension going out of him. When he looked up at Rand, he seemed tired. And a lot more real.

"I don't love her," he said bluntly. "Light, I don't even understand her! Tell me, Rand, how are you supposed to love a woman you don't understand?"

Rand snorted. If any man _ever _fully understood a woman, he would be very, very surprised.

"What about you?" Mat asked, suddenly. His eyes twinkled wickedly, he half-leered. "I've been hear some interesting things about you, Rand."

Rand blanched. "Nynaeve wouldn't have…"

"You've clearly forgotten Nynaeve mutters things when she's angry." Rand closed his eyes and mouth, and Mat chuckled. "Really, Rand? _Three_? Actually, that doesn't surprise me so much; taveren are somehow more attractive, I think, but _all at once_?"

Rand just shrugged, a hopeless kind of gesture, probing his mind for them for an instant before refocusing his attention on his friend.

"And I have heard some interesting things about _you_." He countered, grinning. "Before Tuon…wasn't there a queen called Tylin? Nynaeve mentioned something about you 'knowing what it feels like to be chased'…"

Mat swore in the Old Tongue. Rand didn't say anything, but his smile faded along with Mat's when he said, "Doesn't Tuon get jealous?"

"This is coming from the man with three…" Mat fumbled for a word, losing steam as he did so. "Three women hanging onto his coat." He paused, voice suddenly flat. "No, Tuon doesn't get jealous. Tylin is dead."

Rand felt alarmingly sympathetic. Then Lanfear flashed through his mind. Selene. Lanfear. Light, what was the difference? "How?"

For a second, he feared Mat wouldn't understand. The gambler looked shocked, but then he seemed to hear the question Rand was asking.

"Not…I mean…because of me, but I didn't…" Rand nodded, soothingly, and Mat stopped abruptly. His eyes were bright. "I wonder if Perrin has the same…" He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the space between them.

"I doubt it." Rand thought of Faile briefly. Lucky Perrin! She was nothing like the musk-cats he just _had _to fall in love with. And from what Rand heard of Tuon – and Tylin – they were of the musk-cat variety as well. And Lanfear…Rand shook his head. He had _not_ loved Lanfear. Just as he had _not _killed her. But he still felt guilty. For both those things.

"You know that day…"

Rand looked up again as Mat spoke, intrigued by how nervous he sounded.

"That day, with the Aelfinn." He stopped, glancing at Rand cautiously.

He was right to be nervous, Rand thought grimly. He did not want to talk about that. And it surprised no end him that Mat did.

"They said…I think they said…that I'm going to be blind."

Rand didn't know how to answer. Mat went on edgily.

"And you…you once said you wouldn't leave me behind." He paused. "Even if I…_fell _behind."

"What are you saying?" His mouth was strangely dry.

"That I've grown up a little." Rand raised an eyebrow and Mat made a face. "And that I've realized you're still _Rand_ despite…" He made that impossible gesture again. "And from the sound of it, I'm going to need a friend."

Rand couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Light, Mat! We'll always be friends, even if…I don't have much time for friendship." Lews Therin said something mocking that Rand ignored. "And I need your help too."

"Yes, I know." Mat grinned. "But I don't think you'll need me to talk you into doing anything daring anymore." He frowned slightly. "You seem to manage that fine on your own these days." He paused, evidently thinking. "You're very different. I'll have to get better at talking you _out_ of things, if I'm going to be of any use."

Rand flung back his head and laughed.

Mat smiled, leaning forward, sincerity etched on his face. "I've missed you."

And then Rand realized something. He realized he was afraid of hurting Mat after all.

"I thought I was the Dragon Reborn to you."

The other taveren looked startled, before giving a mocking bow from his seated position. "Lord," he taunted.

"No."

Mat didn't answer.

"No," Rand insisted, coldly. "You think I'm going mad."

"I think you're mad already." Mat grinned. "But I've decided that's alright. Rand, what's the _matter _with you?"

"Lews Therin speaks to me."

Mat looked horrified, which was Rand's intention. _There is nothing harder to break than a bridge that has been firmly repaired. _But Mat had walked away once, why wouldn't he let Rand do the walking away this time?

"That won't work."

"What won't?" Mat was fingering the fox-head medallion around his neck without realizing it.

"That." Rand sounded amused, but he did not feel it, nodding his head towards the necklace. "It doesn't work against _saidin_."

Snatching his hand away, the gambler glowered at Rand. "I know. I wasn't – I mean, I'm not –" He settled for scowling instead. "Blood and ashes," he said into the silence, and Rand couldn't help but smile. "What do you mean, Lews Therin speaks to you?"

"I mean he's in my head, Mat." Rand's voice was perfectly calm. Pleasant, even. "He talks to me. And sometimes I say things I don't mean to. Things that he would have said, if he were alive."

There was long, painful pause as Mat looked at him with bright eyes.

"Sa souvraya niende misain ye," he recited suddenly, determinedly. "Do you think I don't know what you're trying to do, Rand al'Thor? Well, it won't work."

"You sound like Nynaeve."

Mat smirked. "Rand al'Thor," he repeated, shaking his head, as if only realizing what he had said. "Well, maybe she's right this time. I speak the Old Tongue, Rand, and I have no idea how or even when I am doing it. I win every toss of the dice, like I can feel the edge of my luck and toe along it. I have generals in my mind, telling me where to send the Red Hand."

"I have _Lews Therin _in my mind trying to wrestle the Source from me!"

Mat almost smiled.

"I miss the dagger."

That stopped Rand like a thunderbolt. "Why?"

Mat shrugged, and answered calmly, so calmly Rand knew he wasn't telling the truth. "I need something to hang onto, Rand. Haven't you noticed? The knife, the medallion…I need something to crawl to."

Rand shook his head.

"What are you saying?"

"If you're mad, then so am I."

Rand had to laugh.

"Better. You've stopped looking like Bel Tine was cancelled." It was just an expression, but Mat made a face right after he said it, realizing the implications. "I hear you're King of Illian."

"And that _you_'re a Lord! You always hated Lords, Mat. It doesn't suit you."

"Oh, doesn't it? I could have had you at my _beck and call_. If only you weren't a King."

"Yes, I'm afraid I still win this one."

"I don't even _like _Tuon." Mat went on in one breath. "You never were a good gambler."

Rand took the hint. "Are Lords allowed to gamble without tarnishing their reputation? Or is that only a privilege reserved for Kings?"

"Kings, I think, but I don't let that stop me." With a smile, he pulled out his dice cup, and tossed haphazardly. Five dots stared up at Rand as he hid his worry. "Play with me."

"When I took Calandor, I couldn't control it. I nearly killed everyone."

"Your roll." Mat handed him the dice cup, and Rand spun, scoring considerably lower than his friend. "I have no idea how you handle Aviendha. She's sooner stick a knife in a man than kiss him, I think." A pause. "Tylin's death is my fault."

Mat rolled another five dots. He smiled dizzily at Rand as he handed the cup back.

"I love them, and I'd marry them in an instant. Three wives." He shook his head. "What does that make me?" He spun.

"A fool." Mat answered, jiggling his wrist, head tilted listening to the sound of the dice rattling. "I never gave up on running. I never just 'grew up' and realized it wasn't the right solution, not like Egwene thought. I would run like anything if I could."

Spin.

"I did go mad. I – I killed a woman. And I felt nothing."

"I considered betraying you."

Mat kept winning.

"When I said your name I'd get dizzy."

"I dreamt about you."

"Are you drunk?"

Mat stared. "What?"

"Are you? Because this isn't you." Rand gestured. "What are we going to do, Mat? Continue dicing till we run out of things to say?"

Mat laughed, wildly. "I'd never betray you, Rand."

"You're drunk." The Dragon Reborn shook his head in slight disgust. "Light, Mat. Is this about Tuon?" Without waiting for an answer, he went on. "I don't have time to take care of you!"

Mat looked wounded. "I didn't come here to be taken care of. I just wanted to dice and talk with someone who I thought knew me."

Rand sighed. "I knew the Mat who was so terrified that Ba'alzamon had stolen his eyes, I knew the Mat who caught onto my coat and _sobbed _that he'd never betray me. I don't know the Mat who says it with a laugh, the one who spends most of his time drinking too much cheap wine, the one who believes he's going to go blind and doesn't even flinch at the thought."

Mat shrugged, and Rand felt like hitting him. _What does it matter?_ the gesture said. _What does anything matter?_ And Light, Rand was allowed to become ice, but not Mat. Never Mat.

"At least I _drink_. I allow myself _that _relief."

Rand would have been relieved at the passion in his friend's voice if he hadn't felt so indignant. "Your drinking yourself into a stupor every night is a _good _thing?"

Mat snorted. "It's not like you cared. And at least I've got that. The only thing you've got is those three pretties hanging onto your arm. And me? I've got wine, and dice."

"Don't say that. They're worth a lot more to me than that, a lot more than – cheap relief."

Mat didn't even bother to answer him, just shaking his head with another laugh.

"Burn you," Rand growled finally, unable to contain his anger. "Burn you, Mat Cauthon. I can't afford to be – I can't afford to…"

"What, show emotion?" Mat mocked. "Yes, you can afford to. You're just frightened to."

"Get out," Rand answered, summoning up all his Dragon Reborn coldness. Mat just laughed.

"Or what? You'll use the One Power on me?" Mat's fingers fumbled for the fox-head as he spoke, and that was when it hit Rand. Mat really hadn't been lying. Neither of them had been.

Rand and Mat had always been about the same strength, so when Rand dragged Mat to his feet in an attempt to shake some sense into him, he was surprised that Mat didn't resist. Instead, those twinkling brown eyes caught and held his. Light, clear brown.

"Are you _sober_?" For some reason, the thought was outrageous.

"Does it matter?" Mat looked oddly delicate, blinking at him, face inches away from his. The gambler gave him an uncharacteristically coy look, and ducked his mouth to his, giving him a warm kiss. "Does it matter at all?"

Rand supposed it did not, at that.

"I've decided something."

Mat hung on to him, breathless, and Rand stared blankly over his shoulder as he answered. "What's that?"

He could almost see Mat's grin.

"When I run like anything, I'm taking you with me."


End file.
